Part of the problem - Dystopian micro fiction by Russ Cavanagh
The television brought bad news by the day, by the hour even. There was nowhere to hide it seemed, no rest from the wicked.
"How much is left?" Henry asked.
"We'll make it," replied his wife.
Hannah was good at stretching out their rations across each cycle. But empty shelves and high prices weren't going away any time soon in what shops remained open.
"I could go see Mister Ginsberg?" Henry suggested, already guessing his wife's response.
"No," she said, fingering her wedding ring, "Ginsberg's part of the problem."
After a meagre lunch - tinned sardines on toasted bread followed by jam scones and what passed these days for coffee - Henry washed up as Hannah straightened out the front room before their usual afternoon of viewing.
"Peace negotiations resume tomorrow in Islamabad, despite further attacks by opposition forces, with deadlock expected to remain in at least two key areas of ..." droned the BBC correspondent. Henry and Hannah nodded almost imperceptibly to each other.
The TV set, once unplugged and lifted away from its wall socket, fell from the window to land hard on the pavement two floors below, right outside Mister Ginsberg's pawnbrokers shop.
Inside the front room, window now closed, they waited in silence.
Copyright © Russell Cavanagh